


To Have And To Hold

by sarabandefive



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Infidelity, Life's Difficult and Roger Never Apologises For Anything, M/M, Men Not Talking Enough About Stuff, PWP, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 06:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17637968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarabandefive/pseuds/sarabandefive
Summary: Roger visits Paris.Set just before Roland Garros 2018.





	To Have And To Hold

He really shouldn't have come to Paris. He is fully aware that it was a ridiculous idea, that his champagne promotion is a flimsy excuse at best and a totally transparent one at worst, that his presence in the city right before a slam he isn't playing is bound to raise eyebrows in the press and online. He's sure Mirka sees through him, as well, for all that she played her part well at the gala evening the previous night; there's been a coldness in her eyes ever since he first casually suggested the idea a few weeks ago. He's skirting dangerously close to the edge here on all sorts of fronts.

Still, he finds it difficult to care about any of this when Rafa's mouth is on him. Roger's hands tighten in Rafa's hair and he shudders as Rafa takes him in deeper, his eyes closed reverentially as he moves around Roger's cock. He looks so beautiful like this, a deep blush high in his cheeks and sweat curling his hair against the nape of his neck. Roger brushes his fingers against the curls and Rafa makes a choked sound, then pulls away.

'You're so beautiful,' Roger tries to say, though it comes out more cracked than he intended. Rafa smiles a little as he climbs up beside Roger on the bed.

'Losing my hair,' he says, equally hoarsely. 'Same as you.'

Roger frowns momentarily, but before he can think of a comeback Rafa is kissing him, long and deep. He can taste himself on Rafa's tongue. His cock aches at the realisation.

'I need you now,' he gasps into Rafa's mouth. 'Now.'

Rafa lets out a noise like a small sob. 'Oh God, Roger.'

'Wait here.' Roger stands up from the bed with immense force of will and pads to the coatrack near the door. He had been able to sneak supplies out of his hotel room in his coat pockets when he left this morning. He feels the familiar curl of guilt deep in his stomach as he retrieves them, but suppresses it with practiced ease. If guilt had been able to stop him from doing this, it would have done so a long time ago.

And it has been a long time, he thinks as he looks at Rafa spread out beneath him, as breathtaking as he had been a decade ago when this had first started in earnest. Long enough for them to know every inch of one another. Roger runs his fingers gently down Rafa's side as he leans down to press a kiss to his collarbone, knowing before he hears it that it'll make Rafa moan softly and breathe out his name like a prayer. They shift against one another, fitting together perfectly. Roger knows that Rafa likes to do it face to face; he knows just how to crook his fingers inside Rafa to make him gasp and plead for more; he knows the exact face Rafa will make when he pushes into him just slightly too quickly, and the way his eyes will squeeze shut as his sobs of pleasure grow just a bit too loud for the chipboard walls of the hotel room. He knows that Rafa likes it when he talks.

'You're so fucking good,' he gasps. 'So good. I think about this all the time. I think about you all the time.'

Rafa is speaking too, or trying to - all that is coming out is a stream of unintelligible Spanish, punctuated by ragged breaths. The only word Roger can pick out is his own name. He can feel Rafa is close to the edge now.

'I think about you when I'm with her,' Roger says suddenly. 'When I'm fucking her. I think about this.'

'Roger,' Rafa whimpers, his voice cracked. 'Please.'

'When we're in bed together.' Roger reaches his hand between their bodies and wraps it around Rafa's cock, moving in time to his thrusts. 'I fuck her and think about you.'

Rafa's body tenses and shudders as he comes with a choked gasp. Roger follows him, waves of pleasure washing through his body as he presses close to Rafa, holding him so tight he feels like he might disappear inside his soul.

They lie together for a long time afterwards. Roger watches the sunbeams from the window move across the floorboards, and perhaps he dozes off a little, because they seem to move far more quickly than usual. Rafa is warm and soft in his arms and the room smells of sex and sweat.

'So when is the wedding?' Roger says, eventually.

Rafa turns and looks at him for a long moment before replying. 'Don't know,' he says. 'Maybe next year.'

'Ten years after mine,' says Roger, then wonders why he did. Rafa is still looking at him searchingly, and a little worriedly.

'Roger,' he says gently, laying a hand on his arm. 'You want to talk about this? We can talk again, about it, if you want that.'

Roger sighs and closes his eyes. He suddenly feels weary. 'No,' he says. 'No, we don't need to talk about it. I shouldn't have brought it up.'

He feels the mattress shift as Rafa curls closer to him, nuzzling against his chest. 'Don't be sorry,' Rafa murmurs. 'Is a difficult thing. I know this. Sometimes it doesn't matter how much you talk, the heart is not understanding.'

Roger sighs again. 'How did you do it? For me, I mean. How did you survive?'

Rafa lifts his head then and kisses him, softly and sweetly. It seems to last for a long time - a moment suspended in the golden silence of the afternoon. Roger wishes fleetingly that he could capture it somehow, that he could hold it safely in his heart like a secret, protected from the complications of the world.

'It was very hard,' Rafa says quietly when the kiss breaks. 'To think maybe I lose you forever. I don't know what would happened if I lose you. Give up tennis, maybe. Go to the golf.' Rafa smiles, a little sadly. 'Maybe you are stop me from being the Spanish Tiger Woods.'

Roger laughs despite himself. Rafa has always been able to make him laugh. 'Isn't being the GOAT in one sport enough?'

Rafa raises his eyebrows. 'Not GOAT yet. Still have to beat your record first. Anyway also there is N-'

He yelps as Roger clamps a hand over his mouth.

'Now, now, you know we don't talk about upsetting things like that in the bedroom - did you just lick my hand?'

Rafa quirks his eyebrows again and Roger can't suppress the giggles that bubble up inside him. Soon Rafa is laughing too. It's an infectious kind of happiness, one that seems to spring from deep in Roger's heart whenever he's around Rafa, no matter what clouds are darkening its surface. It's a dangerous happiness, too: it's the reason he's here in Paris, after all; it's the reason why he's been lying to his wife for almost a decade; it's the reason why he has been avoiding even speaking to Rafa in public for months, for fear this happiness will give them away.

Still, though, he finds it difficult to care too much about it when Rafa is here, smiling in his arms, as beautiful as the day they met, his skin shining golden in the afternoon light.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a man and I apologise for any anatomical inaccuracies 😅


End file.
